Whofe peaceful path, and ever-open gate, No feet but thofe of harden'd guilt shall mifs: There Death himself thy Lucy shall reftore; There yield up all his pow'r, ne'er to divide you more. SHENSTONE. ELEGY, IN PRAISE OF SIMPLICITY. TO A FRIEND. FOR rural virtues, and for native skies, I bade Augufta's venal fons farewel; O may that genius, which fecures my reft, Far from these paths, ye faithless friends, depart! O lov'd Simplicity! be thine the prize! Affiduous art correct her page in vain! Still may the mourner, lavish of his tears Still may the bard, diffembling doubts and fears, For praise, for flatt'ry fighing, figh forlorn! Soft as the line of love-fick Hammond flows, 'Twas his fond heart effus'd th' melting theme: Ah! never could Aonia's hill difclofe So fair a fountain, or so loy'd a stream. Ye lovelefs bards! intent with artful pains To form a figh, or to contrive a tear! Forego your Pindus, and on 's plains Survey Camilla's charms, and grow fincere. But thou, my Friend! while in thy youthful foul Love's gentle tyrant feats his awful throne, Write from thy bofom; let not art controul The ready pen that makes his edicts known. Pleafing, when youth is long expir'd, to trace The forms our pencil or our pen defign'd: * Such was our youthful air, and shape, and face! "Such the foft image of our youthful mind !" Soft whilft wê fleep beneath the rural bow'rs, Curfe the fad fortune that detains thy fair; Praise the foft hours that gave thee to her arms; Paint thy proud scorn of ev'ry vulgar care, When hope exalts thee, or when doubt alarms. Where with Oenone thou haft worn the day Near fount or ftream, in meditation rove; If in the grove Oenone lov'd to stray, The faithful mufe fhall meet thee in the grove. ELEGY, TO A FRIEND, ON SOME SLIGHT OCCASION ESTRANGED FROM HIM. HEALTH to my friend, and many a cheerful day ! Life is that ftranger land, that alien clime: Shall kindred fouls forego their focial claim? Shall dark fufpicion quench the gen'rous flame? Forbid by Fate to change one tranfient glance! And guide them to the bosom of a friend? Yes, we have met-through rapine, fraud, and wrong: For oh, pale fickness warns thy friend away! And point the wither'd regions of the tomb. Then the keen anguish from thine eye shall start, ELEGY, Comparing his humble Fortune with that of ethers, he expatiates on the miferable Servitude of an African Slave. WHY droops this heart, with fancy'd woes forlorn? Why finks my foul beneath each wint'ry sky? What though my roofs, devoid of pomp, arife, Where only fimple friendship deigns to stray? Slave though I be, to Delia's eyes a slave, My Delia's eyes endear the bands I wear; The figh the causes well becomes the brave, The pang the caufes, 'tis even blifs to bear. See the poor native quit the Lybian shores, Ah! not in love's delightful fetters bound! No radiant fmile his dying peace restores, Nor love, nor fame, nor friendship heals his wound. Le vacant Bards display their boasted woes, Shall I the mockery of grief difplay? No, let the Mufe his piercing pangs disclose, Who bleeds and weeps his fum of life away! On the wild beach in mournful guife he ftood, He stole one fecret moment to repine. Yet the Mufe liften'd to the plaints he made; But fmooth'd, and fuited to the founding lyre. "Why am I ravish'd from my native ftrand? "What favage race protects this impious gain? "Shall foreign plagues infeft this teeming land, "And more than fea-born monfers plough the main? "Here the dire locufts horrid fwarms prevail; "Here the blue afps with livid poifon fwell; "Here the dry dipfa writhes his finuous mail; "Can we not here, fecure from envy, dwell? "When the grim lion urg'd his cruel chafe, "When the ftern panther fought his midnight-prey, |